The Unwelcome Courtship of a Fake Gentleman
by Tsuyucchi
Summary: Alfred thinks him and Arthur are meant to be and is hellbent on pursuing the older man. Arthur thinks he's just a idiot. A dashingly attractive and cute idiot, but an idiot nonetheless. Will Alfred ever succeed and win his beloved's affections? USUKcrack! HIATUS IS OVER
1. Tighten Up

A/N- this right here is cobalt's first hetalia fic, woot! don't know why it's taken this long for me to put something up for my dearest and most amazing fandom..but it has. idk how long this fic's gonna be, i originally planned for it to be a oneshot but then i was like...mehh..won't work. T-T so now it guess it's multi-chap. this fic was inspired by _Falling In Love Ten Days Flat_ by novelist pup. check her out, dudes. she's more known around the dgm crowd but she has a few keen hetalia fics lying around.

this is total crack and fun writing, just so you know. the narration is dead-on me talkin' bullshit and telling you all what's going down. i'm a pretty chill chickadee so don't expect any 'WHY SO SERIOUS O.o' moments, mkay? xDD also, i curse for the fun of it so don't get too offended okay? i like the T-rating and don't plan on changing it unless i suddenly grow the balls to write smut.

;D anyways, hope my shitty fic to your guys liking.

Disclaimer- APH belongs to himaruya-sensei and history be damned if i'm ever put in charge of it.

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**Chapter One**

**Tighten Up**

Alfred F. Jones was a believer. He had faith in many things. God, aliens, lottery tickets, Santa Claus, you name it. Alfred kept an open-mind to nearly everything and anything. So naturally, he believed in the notion of 'love at first sight'. Y'know, the that crazy thing where the dude falls head over frikkin' heels for some random chick he's never even seen before. He goes loony after her, shit hits the fan and the drama starts. But eventually everything always works out and the two live happily ever after. Yeah, he'd seen the movies. That shit was real, man.

But never in his life did Alfred think that 'love at first sight' would happen to _him_. But it had, 'cause Alfred had fallen _hard_ for him. Yeah, him- as in a dude. Hey, don't judge, love can happen anywhere-anytime. Free love and all that fancy jazz. ...Alright? We good? Okay then, back to the story. So anyways, Alfred F. Jones had fallen hard on his goofy face for him. And who was him, you ask?

Arthur, Arthur Kirkland. That's who.

God, even the mere mention of the man was enough to make the 'All-American' boy's heart swell with love and fuzzy feelings. He had it bad, alright. His thoughts were filled with the Brit. When he closed his eyes, he saw Arthur. In the recesses of his mind, there was Arthur. In his dreams (both wet and dry), Arthur Kirkland would rear his pretty little head. Even when Alfred was in the john, taking a hardcore crap, somewhere in the back of his head he was going I Heart Arthur Kirkland. Yeah, that was some real-ass lovin' right there.

Alfred remembered his first encounter with the sexy tsundere Brit. The memory was as fresh and as raw in his mind as the scars he'd gotten from the actual meeting. Oh? Didn't he mention that? Yeah, Alfred had gotten _scars_ in his run-in with Mr. Kirkland. They were hardcore scars too. Totally legit. Of course, Alfred hadn't gotten them in a particularly badass fashion. It was more like an accident that Arthur had unintentionally been the cause of. Damn him and the power Arthur's perky butt had on Alfred's eyes. And brain.

It was the afternoon and the day had been as average and eventful as any other day. Alfred was walking down the street on his way home from football practice (of which, on the team- Alfred is the senior QB). He was standing amongst a moderate crowd of people all waiting for the light to turn red so the traffic could stop and they could cross over to the other street. Strangely, the light was taking a long while to change so Alfred did as he normally did, he people-watched. People-watching was a fun pass time that the young man often partook in when the situation became boring and the crazy/weird shit other people were doing became more interesting.

As his bright blue eyes scanned the other side of the street he saw some mildly intriguing things. Like stuffy lawyer-looking guy trying, and failing, to indiscreetly dig up his nose for gold (ew) and a prissy twenty-something-old woman attempt to text on her phone with wet nails. Nothing out of the ordinary, Alfred thought but then he laid his eyes on Arthur...and all brain function ceased to exist. Alfred noticed the British man as he was exiting the nearby Starbucks, one arm carrying two or three books and the other toting a chilled mocha frappuchino. He watched as Arthur skillfully weaved through the thick throngs of people on the busy sidewalk. Alfred didn't know it at the time that Arthur was a foreigner but he looked like he'd been navigating the streets of New York all his life.

Now Alfred isn't particular _gay_, per se. He'd had a few experiments here and there, most of them directed under the medium of alcohol, but overall he was quite fond of the opposite sex. But heaven be damned if Alfred wouldn't swear off women forever in exchange for two hours of drunken kinky sex with Arthur Kirkland. The man was _fine_.

That day, Arthur had been wearing an olive green sweater vest with a white shirt underneath, a pair of ironed trousers, and black shoes. Normally the mere mention of a sweater vest would immediately bring the thought of the geeky, sweater vest-enthusiasts of the AV Club back at school to Alfred's mind. But now the sweater vest was immortally enshrined in Alfred's personal Sexy Hall of Sexiness, right next to the playboy bunny outfit and Britannia Angel.

Seeing Arthur for the first time, in his cute little nerd-clothes, it damn near was a religious experience for Alfred. Because with the way those pressed, lint-free black slacks held to Arthur's lower half, accentuating the length of Arthur's legs and the round fuckability of Arthur's ass...God had to have had a _personal_ hand in that. Fer sure. But maybe it was because Alfred just found Arthur so damn appealing in general that he now faithfully believed that sweater vests equal maximum smexy. The Brit could be wearing a plastic bag from Walmart and Alfred would still trade an arm and leg for his sex. His yummy, delicious, crumpet-munchin' sex.

Anyway the sight was quite the sight, Alfred's thinking process and voice of reason were either monumentally stunted or completely shut off, explaining why he did was he did next. As already stated, Arthur in sweater vest made Alfred as hard as a rock and his mind go blank. With mental capability at zero percent and a raging boner at one-hundred and _sixty-nine_ percent, Alfred F. Jones did something so incredibly stupid it'd be enough to warrant having the word 'retard' permanently tattooed in caps across his forehead.

With dumbass levels over nine-thousand and sex the only thing on his mind, Alfred took off running.

Towards Arthur.

Through traffic.

With the light still on green.

In New York City.

Through traffic.

Yeah. And the good Lord must have seen the young man's act of utter idiocy and decided Alfred was too dumb to live 'cause just as Alfred was about to miraculously clear the deadly New Yorkian traffic and commence upon the buttfuckery of Arthur Kirkland, he sent a car down from heaven. The car must have been His because Alfred could have sworn the license plate read 'GODRIDE, B!TCH'. Which was actually impossible since it was over seven characters, but, hey, no one tells Him what to do. And the car hit Alfred, dead-on.

Alfred actually was a lucky man and got to experience the beauty of flight, flying in the air like a birdie for a bit until before gravity kicked in and was like, 'Nuh-uh, bitch. Down you go.' on his stupid ass and sent the American crashing back down to Earth in a bloody mess. But it wasn't so bad, Alfred thought as he was impossibly optimistic about these sort of brickshitting situations, after all he'd gotten the attention of Arthur, the newfound love of his bleepin' life, for a few minutes. (Alfred actually wasn't sure exactly how long he'd kept the Brit's attention as he promptly blacked out shortly after landing)

So all in all, it was a good day. He'd had a great time at practice with the guys, saw Arthur Kirkland (future lover of Alfred F. Jones, mind you) and even caught his eyes as a car propelled him five feet off the ground. Alfred smiled as he lost consciousness and the EMTs arrived to scoop him up. So this was love, eh? He supposed things could have turned out better but Alfred had still had a blast. Love was great.

Even if it made you pull crazy shit.

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A/N- ehhh. it's not very long but i didn't feel like going any further and this seemed like an okay place to end the first chapter. after all capitulo uno was only supposed to give you guys a taste of my blunt writing style, alfred's utter infatuation with arthur, and the dire need america-tan is experiencing to shag iggy's bum to the ground. oh and give you all some grins and chuckles. not much happened here today and america seems...kinda bleepin retarded. BUT LOVE DOES THAT TO YOU~~~! XDD

i'll go more into things next chapter and even put some of it in iggy's pov. america will have go through hoops now to win iggy's respect, love, and rights to his ass. bwahaha. oh and there shall be other hetalia characters...like china, russia, france, germany, etc etc. it'll be a blast. promise. :3

oh. and the chapter titles...don't dig for meaning there. they're just titles to songs that i was listening to while writing. you'll see a mash-up of alternative, rock, pop, indie, kpop, jpop, et cetera. it is what it is.

**REVIEW PLEASE! TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! TEN REVIEWS FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER TOO!** (b/c i am _quite_ the loony bitch)


	2. Om Nashi Me

A/N- dude, you hetalia fan folks are bleepin' amazing, yo. owo this fic's crazy fun to write since i'm just letting my inner fangirl and chill self tag team this out. 's totally working out too. so i think i'll just keep on keeping, yeah. :D this chapter's totally dedicated to rachel and and audrey jones (no relation to america xD). it's their no bullshit way of speaking that i use in writing and in life. :333 sorry this chapter is so late, i had it done and proofread the day _after_ i submitted chapter two but wanted to wait a bit before releasing this chappy. but then became a bitch and fucked up the story update thing and i had to do some digging around to finally get the piece o'shit to work. sigh. the things i do for you guys. read and review, folks. and as always, enjoy!

last chapter's song/title was **Tighten Up by The Black Keys**. prime shit right there. kinda reminds me of the head over heels, no logic love alfred has for dear sweet arthur. plus the beat is frickin' sweet. ;D

Disclaimer- still don't own. hidekaz...where ever you are, hope you're safe coz you still have all us hetalia fans out my our heartstrings.

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**Chapter Two**

**Om Nashi Me**

Matthew walked down the pristine white hallway, his nose slightly scrunched as he tried to find his twin brother's hospital room. Which was a little difficult since the smell of antiseptic made Matthew slightly queasy. The boy looked back at the room number he just passed. Room 273? Wait, didn't the nurse say Room 104? Oh great, he'd gone the wrong way and now was stuck in an unfamiliar building that oozed with the stink of disinfectant and needles. Matthew hugged the stuffed polar bear he'd gotten for his brother closer to his chest. Terrific.

This was all his stupid twin's fault anyway. Who the hell told him it was a good idea to run across traffic during the afternoon rush hour anyway? He'd nearly fallen out of his seat when he saw the screenshot of Alfred's busted up and bloody body on the Channel 4 News. Now he was lost in a big creepy-clean hospital with sick people everywhere left and right. Why, when he got a hold of Alfred's stupid, stupid face, he'd punch it. Just for causing everyone, including Matthew, so much trouble.

...At least that's what Matthew told himself he'd do to his brother. In reality, what'd probably end up happening is Matthew would come into the room, all ready and pumped to give his twin the old one-two, but then he'd see Alfred all hurt and covered in, like, a full-body cast and would feel so bad and sorry for his bro. Sigh. That was his life apparently. It wasn't _his _fault Matthew had an identical twin brother who always got in trouble and thought more with his dick than with his brain. (Matthew had gotten a phone call from his brother at the hospital and the man wouldn't stop yammering about some sweater vest-wearing sex god. Either that or it was a feather nesting text god. Alfred's speech had been slurred by the painkillers the doctors had him on)

"For cryin' out loud, doctor dudes! Lemme outta this place! The food sucks and it smells like old people!" a familiar voice echoed down the hall. Matthew sweatdropped, he'd recognize that obnoxiously loud voice anywhere. "Plus I still gotta find that hot sweater vest guy! His ass is mine!" Yep, it was his brother alright. Matthew headed in the direction of his brother's whiny complaining.

"Oh Alfred..." he mumbled as he entered the hospital room, a bit embarrassed by the racket his brother had been making. Upon seeing his other twin, Alfred's cranky face lit up and he smiled.

"Hey, Matty! You made it! That's so cool of you." he said, then he lowered his voice. "By any chance, d'you got any decent grub to eat on you? McDonalds, preferably but whatever's fine. You would not believe the shit they're making me eat here at this cell ward..." The doctor overheard him and shot Alfred a dark look.

"For the last time, Mr. Jones. You can't have any solid food at the moment. Everything's got to be given to you through the IV drip." she said, tucking a loose strand of brown hair behind her ear. Then she added under her breath, "Next time _think_ before you decide to run out into traffic." Matthew nodded sympathetically.

"I hear you, Miss. ...uh, Doctor Lady. Alfred's my brother and he's quite troublesome...sorry you had to put up with him." he apologized for his twin. The doctor smiled softly at him, accepting the apology. Alfred simply looked on at the two, a look of betrayal plastered on his bandaged face.

"It's alright, young man. I'm Doctor Elizaveta Héderváry by the way, but you can just call me Dr. Elizaveta." she introduced, standing up a little straighter. Matthew nodded and smiled back at her.

"Alright, Dr. Elizaveta. Uhh, so when do you think Alfred will be up and walking again? I saw the pictures of him during the accident on the news. They didn't look all that...good." he said, a small frown present on his face. Dr. Elizaveta checked the charts on her clipboard for Jones, Alfred.

"Well, surprisingly it wasn't all that bad. He's got a bunch of bruises and some cuts here and there and he's going to be sore for a while. But the only broken bone he's got is on his left ring finger and that'll be a snap to fix up. No fractures either. Your brother's a real lucky guy. I'm starting to think all that blood that was spurting out of him before was just for show. Haha." she chuckled. Matthew laughed softly with her. Bleeding nonstop just for the attention? That sounded actually plausible when it came to Alfred.

"Hey!" his brother exclaimed from his hospital bed, clearly annoyed with all the bad talk going on about him. "I'm right here you know!" Dr. Elizaveta's expression was annoyed as she turned around to reprimand the boy.

"Oh, hush up, kid. We're just joking. And do you know how much of a mess you caused with all that bogus 'bleeding out' stuff you were pulling? You got blood on my favorite doctor's coat!" she cried out, pointing to the dull red bloodstain on the side of her sleeve. Alfred rolled his eyes.

"Whatever, lady. I just wanna eat something that's not a gray colored liquid." he retorted, attempting to cross his arms but the pain from trying to do so forced him to stay as he was, a pained pout etched on his face. Matthew chuckled at the sight. How uncool of his 'awesome' brother.

"Yeah, yeah, like I really care." Dr. Elizaveta turned back to the more likable Jones twin and grinned. "Anyways, I've gotta get moving to my next patient. I've either got to cut out their heart and put a new one in or give them a flu shot. Can't remember. See you later, Mr. Jones and noisy brat." she waved as she left. Alfred scowled. Matthew simply smiled and sat in the chair next to his brother.

"Alfred you really should be more respectful to the doctors here. They did save you life, after all." he said, a bit of sarcasm in his tone. Alfred didn't seem to notice it and grinned back at his twin.

"Yeah, I guess. But, dude, they totally made a big deal outta nothing. Didn't you hear the doctor? I've only got a broken finger! Ha! Just shows how awesome I am that I can run through New York traffic and get away with just a messed up finger. Take that, Death!" he bragged, a goofy, but happy grin on his face. Matthew just sighed. Perhaps it did show awesome Alfred was...or maybe it just showed how much of a dumbass he was. Alfred could believe whatever he wanted though.

"Seriously though, what possessed you to do that? I heard a little bit of what you were saying on the phone, but, Alfred, you damn near almost got yourself killed." Matthew said, hoping his words had at least made his brother _rethink_ his actions. Alfred's face turned stoic and he went silent. Matthew could help but raise a brow at Alfred's sudden change in attitude.

Alfred chose his words carefully. "I was...hypnotized...by a rather...enticing...rear end."

...

"In short, you were horny and walked through traffic to get laid. Am I correct?" Matthew asked, a bland look on his face. Alfred cracked a grin and chuckled.

"Man, you know me so well, Matty. It's kinda creepy sometimes. But yeah...I like sex. And I'd brave the afternoon traffic to get me some. Wouldn't you?"

"I dunno, Alfred. I rather like living." he said snarkily. Again, Alfred ignored his brother's remark. Matthew sighed, seeing that the snark had gone over Alfred's head. "So who's the lucky lady this time, Alfie?" he asked, joining Alfred in his use of pet names. 'Alfie' smirked, a glint present in his eyes.

"Surprisingly, it's not a girl this time, my dear Matty. It's a sweater vest-wearing dude with eyebrows the size of bricks. Both of which I find astonishingly sexy.." he murmured to himself. Matthew looked at him in disbelief. Was this a joke? Really? His 'All-American' manly-man, football-chuckin' brother was an asspirate? Matthew smirked as well.

Heh, why was he not surprised?

"Sweater vest? Eyebrow bricks? And now I find you take up the ass, little brother?" Matthew teased. Alfred gave his brother a sour look.

"Hey, shaddup. Those two things are _majorly_ sexy, your lame ass wouldn't understand. And for your information, when me and...sweater vest...guy _are_ consummating our totally hot and steamy love, _I _will be the one wearing the pants. Fer sure." he replied. "Also, you're only older by, like, two minutes. So...double shut up." he added. Matthew rolled his eyes.

"Two minutes older than you are."

"...Your mom." Alfred retorted.

"It's your mom too." Matthew replied.

Alfred made an 'oh, damn' face of realization. "Okay, shut up."

Matthew grinned in compliance. At least he could win at this.

XDXDXD

A total of three days had passed since Alfred had been released from the hospital. He'd finally pissed off Dr. Elizaveta to the point where she was either going to kick him out or smash his head in with a frying pan. She choose the less bloody option and Alfred was finally freed from the containment of his hospital bed and free to clog his arteries with Mickey D's and KFC. Along with the spiking of his sugar levels, Alfred had also been concocting his plan to find his soon-to-be lover and make him his.

His plan went as such.

Step 1. Find the sexy!

Step 2. ? ? ?

Step 3. Make the sexy _my _sexy and commence to have the sexy time with the sexy. (aka- Profit)

Alfred stared at the white sheet of college-ruled paper that contained his plan. He scrutinized every single step of his plan.

My _God_, it was _fucking full-proof_.

Matthew peered over his brother's shoulders to sneak at peak at Alfred's 'plan'. Oh yeah...there was nothing wrong with that plan _at all_. Did this sweater vest guy even exist? The way Alfred moaned every single night into his pillow about him was starting to make Matthew think his younger brother of two minutes was just making the dude up. Wait a sec, imaginary buttsex with an imaginary friend...ehh, as long as Alfred cleaned up the mess.

"Alfred." Matthew called out to his brother.

"Huh? What?" he got in response, Alfred was still editing his brilliant plan, as in bolding the question marks of Step 2. Matthew sighed. Okay, that was it.

"Alfred, I'm beginning to become concerned about this infatuation of yours and its impact on your mental health." Alfred stared at his twin blankly. Matthew groaned, he'd hadn't gotten the hint. So he'd have to be more direct. "Get off your butt, I mean. And get out of the house as well. You're freaking me out, eh." Crap, he'd let his accent slip.

Alfred's lips curved deviously. "Dude, watch that Canadian accent, eh. But, fine, fine...I'll get out of the house. We're outta bacon anyway. And sliced ham is not bacon, no matter what you Canadians say. That shit's fuckin' weak. I'm off to the store, later." he said, taking the keys from the table and heading out the door.

XDXDXD

_At the *insert generic supermarket name here* Store_

Alfred was hyperventilating at the moment. He couldn't believe it. He could not freaking believe it.

There he was at the local Stop N' Stop (whose motto was 'Stop by n' shop till you drop. But no cops') waiting in line for the cashier with a two things of delicious, hickory-smoked ham in one hand and a half-eaten Big Mac in the other. The line, like usual, was taking a quarter of a century to move up due to the fact the older-than-time cashier, Bertha, moved slower than a retarded turtle. Alfred was occupying himself by juggling a People magazine in his bacon-holding hand. Currently he was finding a particular article on Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie very interesting.

"Whoa...their lives are like so...cool. I wanna ride a yacht down the Rhine for Easter!" Alfred said to himself, earning a few strange looks from the people around him. Out of the blue, someone came tapping on his shoulder trying to get his attention. "Dude...what? Can't you see I'm reading like...current events?" Alfred said, not looking up from the magazine article, coming across a story on Charlie Sheen. That dude again? He _so_ wasn't winning anymore.

"Ahh, I see. Uh, anyway, could you hand me a pack'a mints?" the British man requested. Alfred nodded and felt around the shelves of candy, handing the person a cannister of Icebreakers. "'Right then, thanks, mate." the man thanked then turned heel and began walking in the opposite direction. Alfred finally looked up from the magazine and over to the disappearing figure of the Brit he'd just been onesidely conversing with.

"No prob- hooooolllllllyyyyy shit." he gasped. A few mothers shot him glares for using such profanity in an open place but right now Alfred really could give less than a flying fuck what others thought of him. 'Cause right now, his sexy soon-to-be future boyfriend was walking away from him. OH SHIT! He was getting away! Alfred pushed back past the line of people and motored after his love. Who would have thought they'd meet again so soon? Fate had be on her high horse, telling Alfred their love was meant to be.

'Pshaw, Fate, as if I didn't already know we're frikkin' soulmates.' Alfred thought to himself as he ran after the young man.

"Hey! Dude I just talked to! Yeah, you! Wait up!" he yelled after him. The Brit, hearing the loud American calling after him stopped and turned to look at him funny. Who the hell was the bloke? And want did he want with him? ...Oh if the Brit only knew.

"Uhm, can I help you?" he asked hesitantly. The American was looking at him weirdly...stranger danger and all.

"Ah, yeah, ya can actually. Oh! First thing's first. My name's Alfred F. Jones. It'd be best for you to remember it." Alfred said, grinning ear to ear. 'You'll be screaming it later anyways...'

"Okay...I suppose. I'm, uh...Arthur. Arthur Kirkland." Arthur replied, a bit reluctant to give the loony yank his last name. Alfred looked like he was about ready to swoon. Arthur was his name, huh? Arthur...Arthur...Arthur Kirkland, manbitch to Alfred F. Jones. Oh, he liked that. He liked it a lot.

"I dunno if you remember me from before but I was the guy who, y'know...got...hit by a...car." Alfred said rather awkwardly. After all, he didn't want Arthur to think he was _weird _or anything. Arthur's pretty green eyes widened in recognition. Blimey, this was the dolt who'd run out into traffic yesterday? Jeezus, he'd thought that guy had died when he saw how he'd landed on the concrete. Like a bloody, literally _bloody_ pretzel. Arthur looked up at the cheerful American before him. Apparently not.

"Oh! You're the suicidal bloke from the other day. Right, right. I think I remember you now. Uh...glad to see you're not...dead." Arthur added later. 'Omigod...he's glad...for me...that I'm not dead! Shit, that's the sweetest thing ever!' Alfred thought joyously to himself. Arthur eyed the young man carefully. What the bloody hell was going on with this kid? And was this particular conversation going to go somewhere anytime soon? He had to be getting back to-

"Haha, yep that's me! But, listen dude, I'm gonna be totally honest with you right now. You probably don't know it yet, but me and you are fuckin' soulmates, man. And...I love you." Alfred announced, taking Arthur's smaller hands into his. The Brit turned red in the face. What the bloody _fuck_ was this wanker on? Before Arthur could even get started on the American boy's utter mutilation of the English language, he was pulled forward into a liplock with the yank. Arthur's eyes were as wide as saucers by now. And to his horror, the poor Englishman felt a particular moist appendage prodding his closed lips.

My _God_, it was a tongue.

A fucking mental yank was attempting to French him in public at a fucking supermarket. Super. Just super.

Arthur knew getting out of a bed today was a mistake. Nonetheless the _straight_ Brit remained adamant against Alfred's endeavors and kept his lips glued shut. He tried to pry himself loose from the American but the man was fucking _strong_.

"Oi, Iggy-jerk, didja get my candy yet? And I swear if you got me a packet of bludgin' mints again, I'll- EW! What the hell? Get a room, gayarses!" a young blond boy with similar eyebrows to Arthur exclaimed.

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A/N- hmmm, can anyone guess who that was? kekeke. and i'll explain why he called arthur 'iggy-jerk' if the fic's AU later, kk? that and why matty and alfie are decidedly identical twins and one has a canadian accent, eh. ;D this chapter was _much_ longer than the first. thank god. i don't like it when i submit shit that's under 2k words. makes me feel like i didn't do shiet. but you guys seemed to like it. yayyy. :33 iggy and mysterious eyebrow kid will be using profuse amounts of british slang coz well...they're british. ya dig? xD it's fun to look through a british slang dictionary anyway. they use arse instead of ass. i do that sometimes...but i'm fond of my ass. ^o^ ...wait, whut?

ooooh. and the plot thickens. not really. is there even a plot? o.o (nope! XDD jkjk. i think) silly alfred. there's no tongue on the first kiss! even you're not _that_ good! XDD hey, let's talk to some reviewers! :O

two more weeks until spring break! (or something like that) but whatevs, cobalt'll be able to work on her stories nonstoppppp. yay. but first i gotta finish up great expectations. never thought i could hate the way a british dude speaks...but jeez, cockiney/old english is mighty difficult to understand at first.

yeah, that's it.

peace. ^^

**TEN REVIEWS EQUALS** (eventual)** UPDATE! PLEASE REVIEW AND TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK, ARU! :DD**


	3. Shut Up and Let Me Go

A/N- sonnuva bitch. you people...you people! ya wanna know what you all did? effin' broke my gmail. yep. too much crap from reviews/favs/alerts and shit that all notifications for this story have like three days of lag in them. i guess i should say thank you. but also fuck you. for your wonderful, unintentional act of douchery. xD seriously. every day. more reviews. more lag in my email. T_T but hey, longer update makes you happy? here you go. 4k+ words. not my usual 7k+ stuff but dgm req's more detail for some reason. enjoy.

to anyone who guessed sealand/peter as the bushy brow kid at the end, kudos, kiddos. he'll be a reacurring character in this fic. nearly every aph char i introduce will be. i'm capable of juggling a lot more than what i've put out so far, so things are just gonna keep getting better from here on out. (i really didn't even like ch2 that much...it didn't meet some of my standards. XDD)

last chapter's title was **Om Nashi Me by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros**. that chappy had a buncha matty in it for some reason. xD alfred's such a pesty dude cobalt figures matthew's gotta have _some_ kind of chill mantra or song playing up in his noggin. most of the song's a kickass instrumental...i recommend it when you feel you're gonna light a fuse. ;D

Disclaimer- all rights and stuff go to himaruya-sama, kk? oh and thanks for telling me he's okay. very good to know. ^^

* * *

**Chapter Three**

**Shut Up and Let Me Go**

"Eurgh. Good grief, Arthur. You are such a dirty _slut_." the Frenchman drawled in his thick accent. Arthur pupils grew enlarged and he made a pass at the blond man, who grinned mischievously as he stepped back a bit to avoid the Brit's flailing fists. Peter sighed, watching the two 'friends' continue to taunt each other from the opposite sides of the table. The young boy poked at a brussel sprout disinterestedly. Blegh. Why was Iggy-jerk always trying to force gross veggies like these on him? Like his own God-awful cooking wasn't abuse to his taste buds enough?

"What? What was that, you flaming hypocrite?" Arthur shouted, nearly toppling over his glass of half-drunken ice tea. "Who are you to call me a slut when you go around chasing anything that wears a skirt and has breasts?" Francis' eye twitched at that comment. He did not particularly like it when people insulted the lovely ladies he fell for. Even if there were a great deal of them over a short amount of time.

"At least I do not go around sucking the faces off of people I do not even know- ...Arthur." Francis said, eying the Brit with great disdain.

"For the last time, _frog_. That crazy yank was the one who kissed me, alright? I wanted no part in it!" Arthur barked back, shoving a spoonful of cheesy potatoes into his mouth, blushing just the tiniest bit at the erm, unpleasant memory. Peter smirked when he saw his older brother's face color lightly.

"Yeah, _right_, Iggy-jerk. I saw how you were just _writhing_ that loon's embrace. You so _liked it_." Peter said, grinning devilishly at Arthur's angry red face. The older brit was half-embarrassed to death and half-choking on his cheesy potatoes. Mostly the latter, but yeah. Peter then turned to the Frenchman to his left. "Y'know I even saw a bit of tongue in that nasty snog session? I'm scarred, I tell you. Effing scarred." Francis laughed heartily at the younger boy's words, giving him a good pat on the shoulder.

The reason Arthur and Peter were even dining with Francis was because after the 'incident' with the American and Arthur, Peter had declared that his pupils had been absolutely burned out of their sockets at the sheer homo-ness he'd just witnessed. The only way Arthur could get his younger brother to shut the hell up about his 'utterly unabashed gayness' was by taking him out to dinner. Arthur being Arthur, agreed to do so but lacked the proper ackers (being a college student was a difficult existence) so he pulled some favors from a 'retarded-as-fuck French asshat' and got said asshat to pay for the meal. Yeah.

"Mm. See? Your brother is a slut, just as I said. A dirty, dirty slut with freakish eyebrows." Francis smiled into his wineglass as he raised it to his lips. Peter smiled as well and took another bite of his Mac n' Cheese.

"Hey, Francis?"

"Hmm?" Francis hummed, placing the empty glass back onto the table.

"I get that Iggy-jerk's a total gaylord and stuff. But why do you keep calling him a 'slut'?" Peter asked, glancing at Arthur who was still over at his end of the table, his face red and coughing up a storm of cheesy potato.

"Because he is a slut." Francis replied matter-of-factly. Peter blinked at the older man.

"What's a 'slut'?" Peter asked innocently. Francis was silent for a moment before turning the corners of his lips into a crooked smile.

Eyes flashing and creeper grin on full blast, Francis said, "A slut, my dear boy, is a person who 'gets around' with their goosey all loosey-like. Ah, think of those girls you see on Jersey Shore with their wide-set va-" Arthur, now finished hocking up the rest of the killer potatoes (and a portion of his lung), promptly interrupted the Frenchman.

"Francis, speak another word and I swear to God, I will break a leg off my chair and jam it right up your _arsehole_." Arthur said, his voice dripping with venom. Francis lazily complied with the Brit's (empty) threat.

"Mon dieu, even your threats are homosexual." Francis noted dryly. Arthur was busy contemplating how much he'd have to pay for the glass platter he so _dearly_ wanted to smash over Francis' head. In the end, Arthur's cheapness won out so the restaurant got to keep their platter and Francis, his head. Lucky bastard.

"Haha, it's fine, Iggy-jerk. I know exactly what Francis was gonna say!" Peter said, smiling. Arthur looked thoroughly horrified while Francis was quite amused.

"You...you do?" Arthur asked brokenly. Peter nodded happily. Arthur felt like shriveling up and dying right there. He was a failure of a brother...and gay Americans were attracted to him. God, there was nothing to live for.

"Yeah! He's talking about those girls with their wide-set vans that take up all the space on the roads. Yeah, they're such freaking sluts." Peter said, nodding his head a bit. Arthur's face was puckered shut as he tried to restrain himself from either a.) bursting out laughing or b.) smashing his head into the table. Francis choose the former and was wheezing from laughing too hard.

"Ohh! Ohh! Hahaha! Arthur, your brother is simply amazing! Haha! How on earth he could possibly be related to you is a mystery!" Francis croaked in between bursts of laughter. Arthur looked at Frenchman with reproach. Perhaps he _could_ dip into his college fund and bust Francis' head with a platter. Just maybe. Peter stared at the two grown men strangely, not completely understanding why they were acting like such buffoons.

"Oh, dude. I also hate it when those girls try and squeeze their big, fat vans under the bridge. Like, you'd think it'd be too big but somehow those sluts manage to find a way and force their way through. Seriously. Would it kill a slut to think before they do that kinda crap?" Peter said, crossing his arms and shaking his head. At this Arthur couldn't help but to break out in laughter, joining Francis in his crazy rampant cackling. Peter turned red in the face, figuring that Arthur and Francis were laughing at him and not the unintentional buttsex metaphor he'd made.

"Will you two idiots shut the hell up?" Peter snapped, a noticeable tick mark situating just above his thick eyebrow.

_Later...(After Arthur and Francis paid property damage charges to the restaurant)_

Francis sighed deeply, his hand patting the pocket where he kept his (now slightly more empty) wallet. "Ahh...it seems every time I go somewhere with you my wallet always feels so light afterwards. How do you manage it, Arthur?" The Brit paid no attention to the man's complaint.

"Belt up." he said back, busy trying to hail a taxi but to no avail. Frikkin' New York City, man.

Peter watched his older brother repeatedly wave his arms about for a taxi to notice him. Unfortunately all the taxicab drivers paid no attention to the now pissed Brit. The younger boy sighed to himself at Arthur's incompetence. You'd think after four years of living in the Big Apple, he'd easily be able to get a taxi. Arthur cursed loudly when the sixth cab sped past him, ignoring him like he wasn't even there. Finally Peter motioned to his brother to stop while he placed both his thumb and index finger into his mouth and blew a shrewd whistle. Immediately two taxis stomped on their brakes in front of the younger Brit. Peter gave Arthur a friendly grin. To which Arthur simply rolled his eyes at. Pfft. Whatever.

First Arthur climbed into the yellow car with Peter following suit, finally Francis came in and sat on the right. As the car started driving, Peter quickly began to doze off since it was well into the night by now. The younger boy snuggled up against his brother, using Arthur's arm as a pillow. Once Peter had fallen asleep, Francis began to start a conversation again.

"So...how was it?" he asked.

Arthur assumed the Frenchman was speaking to him so he blandly replied, "How was what?"

"Your serendipitous lip lock with that peculiar American, of course." Arthur frowned. Francis went on. "I bet you really did like it."

"As much as one would like to be hung by their toenails, git." Arthur bit back, glaring into his window. Arthur heard Francis chuckle lowly.

"Liar. You liked it, didn't you?" Francis taunted. Arthur held back the sudden urge to throw Francis out of the car. Arthur exhaled slowly. Easy, lad, easy.

"Yes, I liked it, Francis." Arthur said monotonously. Francis smirked but Arthur continued on. "I like it so much that I moment the yank let me go, I hit him in the face. Hard."

Francis cocked a brow disbelievingly. "You punched him? Haha. Ever the pissy one aren't you." Arthur flipped him off.

XDXDXD

"Go...go...go. YES! AW, YEAH, BITCH! Another fuckin' killstreak! Suck on that, Kiku!" Alfred cried, shaking his controller at the air in victory. The Japanese boy he was referring to grunted in response.

"I'd rather not, Alfred. Besides, I don't care for such a dumb and barbaric game." Kiku replied, reaching for his can of Pepsi while Alfred did his signature 'In-Your-Face-Bitch' dance. Kiku groaned as he watched the embarrassing choreography in Alfred's moves. Holy shit, was that The Running Man?

"Haha, you're just saying that 'cause you suck hairy man balls at Black Ops." Kiku rolled his eyes.

"Whatever." Alfred hugged his Xbox controller close to his heart.

"Dude, I love this game so much. I own at it. I COD, I COD so hard." Alfred said as he expressed his love and affection for the game controller. Kiku frowned at the strange sight. Were all Americans this weird about this game?"

Tonight was Alfred and Kiku's weekly game night, in which Alfred would go over to Kiku's house (or vice versa) and go into the smaller hours playing video games nonstop. It was ritual for the two school friends and they'd been doing it ever since Alfred managed to get the normally very shy and reserved boy to go off on him at school. They had a verbal fight and then somehow the two patched things up and became the best of friends. Nowadays, Kiku and Alfred were more busy and it was harder to get together for some quality bro-time but they still managed to make game night happen.

This night had been Alfred's turn to pick the game, so of course his choice had to be Call of Duty. Specifically Black Ops. To Alfred, and almost every other teenage boy in the US, the game was as preeminent as the Holy Bible. Alfred played the game twenty-four-seven. He had Prestige and a bunch of other crazyass honors for the game. In short, Alfred was a COD geek.

Kiku tossed his controller onto the floor in defeat. "Ugh. I'm done with this. Alfred, I challenge you to a round of DDR." Alfred looked at him like he'd just swallowed his own foot.

"Uhh, like hell if I'm playing your Asian ass on Dance Dance Revolution. That's like challenging a Marine to a fist fight. Zero percent survival rate, man." Alfred said, stuffing some popcorn into his mouth as he spoke. Kiku crossed his arms defiantly.

"Exactly. Now roll out the mats. I'm gonna go get some more food since your big mouth ate it all." Kiku made his way towards the kitchen. Alfred sighed sadly.

"Ughh. Fiiiiiiiinnnne." he whined. "Oh, hey, can you get something softer to eat? My jaw still hurts." Alfred later added.

"Sure." Kiku replied, grabbing some things from the fridge. "Is it from that one guy that punched you earlier?"

"Hey! He's not just any guy, Kiku! His name is Arthur Kirkland and he's the mofo love of my life, mkay? But, yes. It is." Alfred admitted, rubbing his sore cheek gingerly. For such a cute, sexy, fragile sex god of a guy, Arthur sure did punch like an MMA fighter. Alfred still couldn't believe that Arthur had done that to him. Didn't he feel the electric-hot passion in their kiss? Ugh. Perhaps not. Maybe he would have felt it if Arthur had just let Alfred get some goddamn tongue action in. No need to go all Great Wall of China on him, jeez.

Alfred clutched at his heart and mock-sobbed his eyes out. "Ohh, Arthur...WHY YA DO THIS TO MEH?" he cried out. A rumbling sound came from upstairs and down the steps came Kiku's cousin, Im Yong Soo. Who was apparently very pissed off. Yong Soo glared daggers at Alfred.

"Hey! Shikaro, dumbass! I'm in a friggin' intense game of Starcraft upstairs and your gayass whining is effin' annoying!" Yong Soo barked. "So help me, if I lose to those Terran noobs, I'ma go kamikaze on your ass."

Alfred grinned widely. "Ahaha. You're so anal about your Starcraft, Yong Soo.." Yong Soo looked highly offended...because he was.

"It is the national sport of the great country of South Korea. Don't disrespect it." the proud Korean replied haughtily. Just then Kiku walked back into the living room, carrying two bowls of ice cream sundae. He handed one bowl to Alfred before setting his down on the table and turning to face Yong Soo.

"Sorry, Yong Soo, Alfred won't bother you anymore. I'll make sure he's more quiet from now on." Kiku said. "And please don't use my country's past in your threats." Yong Soo's ticked expression immediately softened into a silly smile.

"I apologize, Kiku. I didn't mean it, you know I love you. And your tits." Kiku's calm smile slightly faltered. Yong Soo shot a glance at Alfred before turning around. "'Kay then, I'm off to whip some noob ass. Bye, guys."

As he was about to rush up the stairs, Yong Soo seemed to remember something. "Oh, wait. Hey, Kiku, do you know when Yao will be home? I'm freaking starved." Kiku shrugged as he switched the game disks in the Xbox 360.

"Dunno. He said he'd be back from work by eleven but he could be late." Kiku pressed the start button. "If you're that hungry, you can go and make something to eat in the kitchen. There's a bunch of stuff in there." he added.

"Ehh, I'm good. Just wondering is all. See ya." Yong Soo said as he ran up the stairs. Alfred shook his head as Kiku's (eccentric) cousin left.

"Dude. Your cousin's a space case. Legit." Kiku grunted.

"I know." Kiku said, smiling as he finally got Dance Dance Revolution: Universe 2 set up. "Alright, it's all ready. You pick the first song, Alfred." Alfred pouted, stepping onto the soft mat, fully aware of the fate that awaited him.

_Later...(After Alfred got his ass handed to him seventeen songs in a row)_

Alfred was just about ready to pass out onto the couch. His legs felt like they were made of jelly. He'd tried to keep up with Kiku, but dammit the Japanese boy was fuckin' beast at DDR. Now the word 'Marvelous' would forever remind Alfred at his fail attempt at the game. Great.

Kiku stood on his dance mat, not looking the least bit tired at all. He stared at his American friend sadly.

"Oh come on, Alfred. Surely you have more fight in you than that." he teased. Alfred hmph'd back at him.

"I'm beat, dude. I can't even feel my legs." he said, plopping down on the sofa behind him. Kiku followed Alfred's example, albeit more gracefully than just falling onto the furniture like a dropped sack of potatoes. Alfred looked deep in thought. "Besides...I can't freaking get Arthur out of my head. Aw, why did he hafta fuckin' reject me like that? Why, Kiku, why?" Alfred whined, hugging one of Yao's panda-shaped cushions tightly. Kiku sighed. Since when did he become a gay love doctor?

"I don't know, Alfred. Maybe you came on too strong, kissing him out of the blue like that. Most people get a little freaked out when that happens." Kiku replied. Alfred sniffed, rubbing at his nose with his index finger.

"But, dude, you don't understand. We're frikkin' _meant _for each other. I can feel it in my balls." Kiku blinked. Alright...then.

"Um..okay then. Uh, but, you're the only one who thinks that, Alfred. Does Arthur feel the same?" Now it was Alfred's turn to blink. He touched his bruised cheek. Ouch. It still hurt like a bitch.

"...I don't...think so..." Alfred murmured sadly. Kiku sighed softly and patted his friend on the back.

"Then maybe..." Kiku drawled off, letting Alfred fill in the rest of the sentence himself.

"Then maybe...I've just got to convince him to fall in love with me!" Alfred exclaimed.

...What.

Alfred jumped up from the sofa, freshly rejuvenated with new hope. "Yeah! That's it! I'll just show Arthur what a totally amazing and sexy hot guy I am, which shouldn't be too hard, and bada-bing! We fall in love and live happily ever after in a house on the prairie with a white picket fence and a dog named Lady Liberty. Hell yeah!" Kiku stood up as well.

"No, Alfred, I think you misunderstood..." he started to say before the American cut him off.

"Nope! I totally understand!" Alfred looked up into the sky (but as he was in a house, that sky was actually a ceiling). "YOU HEAR THAT, ARTHUR KIRKLAND? YOU'RE GONNA FALL IN LOVE WITH ME IF IT'S THE LAST THING I DO!" he declared. Another loud rattle was heard from upstairs.

"OH, _GODDAMMIT_! I DIED! ALFRED, GET YOUR _BITCHASS_ OVER HERE!"

XDXDXD

Somewhere in a New York apartment complex, Arthur sat up in bed, his nose itching up a storm and shivers going up and down his body.

"Achoo!" he sneezed loudly. Arthur reached over for one of his embroidered handkerchiefs on his nightstand to wipe his nose with. "Blimey, I must be getting a cold or something.." he muttered before crawling back under his sheets.

So Arthur fell back to sleep, completely unaware that from this moment on, the courtship of Arthur Kirkland had officially begun.

* * *

A/N- any fans of jersey shore out there...i'm kindaaaa...a littttlleeeee...sorry. (not really, i mofo hate jersey shore with a passion) it's all in good fun so plz don't get your panties in a bunch over it, k? mm. cobalt's a slut too and has many guy friends. when black ops came out it was like the fuckin' second coming of jesus up in here. one of my close friend's fav saying during that time was "oh my god, jchoe, i COD. i COD so hard" i love the asian nations. probably coz i'm asian myself (chinese-korean ftw) and yes, the nat. sport of _is_ starcraft. i even had someone come up to me and ask if i beast up at starcraft. i didn't even know what the fuck starcraft was at the time. lawl. fail. but i do now. don't play it, but it's a nice convo topic. yong soo...i hearts you! if he seems ooc atm it's coz he's playing starcraft. which everyone knows is serious business. *nod*

yes, that was SO a south park reference last time. actually a tvtropes one but whatevs. i can tell i have some cool south park fans out there if you were able to spot the underwear gnomes. ;D

_term translation_ (my friend pointed out not everyone speaks like i do so here's clarification for shit)

_shikaro_- korean for shut up. (my cousin uses this frequently on me)

'_beasting_'- common term for being really good at something.

_i COD so hard_- i play call of duty shittons, etc. etc.

_COD_- call of duty. (dur dur...)

_legit_- seriously. (i personally don't use this one but my friends do and it sounds cool so yeah)

_mon dieu_- french for my god

who doesn't love peter shittons right now? c'mon be serious. he's legendary, no? hahah. okay, if you have any Q's, feel free to ask em in your reviews. this story is planned over to the tiniest detail. if there's a question that comes up that i DON'T have figured into the story, i'll PM you the answer and it'll be cool again. ;D also to the reviewer to offered to help cobalt w/the english slang. UHHH. HELL YEAHS, I'D LIKE SOME HELP! :DD coz most of the time i just wanna quit ruffling thru brit slang dict's on the comp and just have arthur say "fuck you" in response to everything. i'm a lazyass bitch. T_T

peace and love. *heart*

**IF YOU READ, DROP A REVIEW PLZ! I WARMS MY ICY HEART~! FIFTEEN REVIEWS= UPDATE **(b/c in the last chap, i had the req'd amount of reviews in less than an hour...there wasn't enuf time for me to write the next chapter! DD:) **PLEASE REVIEW! EXPECT THE NEXT CHAP BY THE COMING WEDS, MAYBE SOONER. BETWEEN 3-7 PM EASTERN TIME! **(since each review always demands update, i'll tell you when the update's coming)


	4. TTL

A/N- ahh...it's been a while. i've been out and about..working on other shit. (like...another usuk fic (O_o) and a prussia fic...yeah) lately, i've been shedding an unusual amount of tears due to my excessive watching of tearjerking hetalia mads or heartbreaking vocaloid songs. i've got this one particular song stuck in my head. and yes, i'm full aware how fucking late this update is. i've been busy at buddhist temples, studying for tests, getting college thingers from mofo vanderbilt. guhh. it's been crazy...

this chappy...ehh...idk. i wrote most of it at like...three in the morning. i wasn't feeling like my usual aloof self...so i guess i delved into more of alfie's feelings. o.o sorry, i guess? but hopefully this will show you guys a...different side of alfred. :PP (i need sleep...desperately)

chapter three's song was **Shut Up and Let Me Go by The Ting Tings**. they're a band from the uk and the lead singer sounds exactly how i think igiko (genderbend!arthur) sounds. plus the lyrics match what he was probably thinking near the end of chapter two. :3 listen to it...love it. thank me later for it. xD kidding~

Disclaimer- piss off, lawyer dudes. i don't own shit.

* * *

**Chapter Four**

**T.T.L**

"Dude...help me think of a way to get Arthur to love me." Alfred said to his brother as he threw a bouncy ball against the wall, catching it deftly as it ricocheted back at him. Matthew didn't bother looking up from his French IV homework, he was too busy recalling conjugated verbs and fixing his sentence structure.

"Arthur who?" Matthew asked offhandedly. Alfred stopped playing with the bouncy ball and sat up to frown at his 'older' brother. Seriously, he'd probably talked about Arthur a thousand times and Mattie had the gall to say such a thing as 'Arthur who?'. The bastard.

"Arthur fuckin' Kirkland, that's who, dumbass! Y'know the guy I've been searching the stars for and all that other romantic bullshit. Can't believe you would even have to ask. Do you _not_ pay attention in our convos?" Alfred answered accusingly. Matthew took a break from his homework and wheeled around in his spiny...err, rotate-y chair thing. ...It had wheels and spun, okay?

Matthew gave his twin a tired sigh. "If you haven't noticed, Alfred, you have a bit of a motormouth. You can't expect me to pay attention to _everything_ that comes out of your mouth." he said before wheeling back around and getting back to his homework. Alfred groaned and began throwing the red, white and blue ball against the wall again.

"Yeah, I guess...but the stuff about Arthur's important, man. It has to do with, like, my love life." Matthew had to suppress the urge to reply back, 'What love life?'. Honestly, all Alfred's romantic excursions never lasted longer than a few days. Of course, up until now all of the people Alfred had been with were females (mostly from their school) and they'd just been people Alfred had befriended then tried to start something up with. He would text them, call them, go on dates with them, and that's as far as it ever went. Usually after a couple days, Alfred's relationship status on Facebook went from 'In A Relationship' to 'Single' just like that.

When asked about it, Alfred would just shrug and say he wasn't feeling it with *insert name here*. Whatever 'it' was. In one way, Alfred F. Jones could be considered a womanizer, but Matthew scoffed at such a false assertion. He preferred to think that Alfred was just searching for the perfect someone. Matthew glanced behind his shoulder at Alfred who was busy bouncing the 'American' bouncy ball he'd gotten from one of those seventy-five cent toy machines outside the local market. Alfred seemed as though he was completely immersed in the childish toy, but Matthew knew that it was just Alfred's reflexes acting on their own. Alfred's eyes were misted over in thought and sparkling just a tiny bit. A small smile was present on his lips as well. That was an expression of Alfred's that Matthew had been noticing was appearing more and more.

Contrary to Alfred's presumptions, Matthew actually did pay attention to his younger brother. Not so the talking part as it never seemed to end, but the expressions and changes in manner. Matthew was very perceptive of the people around him and could easily tell when something was wrong. Lately Alfred had been very clumsy, or as clumsy as someone of his athletic and reflexive prowess could be. He'd misplaced things he normally would never misplace, like his car keys or his brown bomber jacket. Matthew knew Alfred had something plaguing his thoughts. This 'Arthur' person seemed to be it.

Whoever Arthur was, he seemed to be having a major impact in Alfred's life. Alfred was forgetful, lost in thought, and always walked around with a smile so goddamn bright, he made the Sun seem like an epic fail. Those were the signs of love, right? Alfred let out a gasp of surprise, he hadn't caught the bouncy ball in time and the large plastic sphere had hit him smack dab in the nose. Ouch. Matthew sighed. Yep, that was most definitely love.

XDXDXD

"My face fucking _hurts_, Mattie." Alfred complained, holding the abused area of his face gingerly. Matthew put the last paper of homework away and gave his brother a look that read, 'What the hell do you want me to do about it?' Alfred understood the look and shrugged. "I dunno. Get me, like...a bandaid or something."

"A bandaid?" Matthew deadpanned, exiting the room. Alfred pouted.

"Ugh. 'Or something'! I said 'or something'! Don't make fun of me whilst I experience major facial painnnn." Alfred cried out dramatically. Matthew came back to their shared room and tossed his hurting twin an ice pack, which Alfred gratefully took and placed on his nose. "Ahh! 'S so col'..." Alfred said rather nasally due to the ice pack pressed onto his nose. Matthew sat back on his wheeled spiny chair.

"It's ice, Alfred. It's supposed to be cold. Your welcome, by the way." he added. Alfred grinned from under the ice pack.

"No problem, Mattie!" he replied cheerfully, missing the point. Matthew sighed. Sometimes he thought his brother did that on purpose. He decided to change the subject. "Uhh...so tell me more about this...Arthen guy."

"Arthur." Alfred corrected.

"Arthur." Matthew repeated. Alfred rolled around on his bed to lay on his stomach instead as he contemplated what he should say about Arthur. Alfred frowned. The problem wasn't that there wasn't anything _to say_ about Arthur. It was that there was _too much_ to say about the guy. He could rant on and on about how much Arthur made the sweater vest a staple in the sexy category or that if the angels in Heaven all had British accents as hot as Arthur's, Alfred wouldn't mind jumping off a cliff. Or he could talk about just how much Alfred really loved Arthur.

There must be a large amount of people out in the world who'd simply brush off Alfred's feelings of Arthur Kirkland as superficial or unnecessary, but Alfred had nothing to say to those people. Unless his two middle fingers could talk, of course. Alfred wasn't sure to what extent his love for Arthur went to, whether it be life long and eternal or a simple phase he'd grow out of, but he was sure that what he was feeling was love. Alfred had been with lots of girls before, sure it'd never gone very far, but he'd never felt anything like this with them.

...But then, what was 'this'? Alfred bit his lower lip in thought. This...this was amazing. Heart-stopping, mind-racing, adrenaline-filled, amazing. Alfred was positive he'd brought this up before but whenever he saw his beloved Brit, he chest would swell with the warm fuzzies and fuckin...butterflies that came out of nowhere started flappin' their wings in his stomach. He couldn't help but to smile at the thought or sight of Arthur, Alfred didn't know why, he just _couldn't_. When dealing with Arthur, Alfred felt things that were remote to him. It was different, and _new_. Alfred didn't want to let go of it.

So, yes, there was a part of Alfred's love that _was_ superficial and simply wanted to bone Arthur's sexy ass into the ground but there was also a part of Alfred that wished to figure out exactly _why_ he felt so strange around the man. To get to the root of his sudden feelings was really what Alfred was after. That and super hot sex afterwards, of course.

But for now, Arthur's incredible looks, sweater vest, caterpillar brows, and fantastic British accent were all Alfred had to go on. So he'd work with what he had until he got Arthur to open up to him and stuff. With that came the 'make Arthur fall in love with me' stage of the plan. Alfred had decided that was the correct approach to go about things while at Kiku's last night, but the boy still wasn't sure how he was to go about it. How do you make someone you previously fell in love with out of the blue, then surprise-attack-kissed in public, following promptly received a punch in the face from them...fall in love with you?

...

Huh. Alfred had jack shit. Crap...

"Alfred. Alfred...Alfred! Jeez, you ask me to pay attention to you, then you go on and turn into a total space cadet on me.." Matthew said, his arms crossed as he shook his head disapprovingly. Alfred shifted on his bed, taking the ice pack off his now, numb, nose and sat up. He gave his brother a serious look that immediately made Matthew go silent.

"Matthew..." he started. Matthew couldn't help but let a brow slip upwards. Alfred rarely ever called him by his actual name, preferring instead pet names of the sort.

"Yes?"

"How...how do you make someone fall in love with you?" Alfred asked.

* * *

A/N- wee! who doesn't love filler! *gets cunt punt'd* ;A; writer's block. i couldn't think of what to say this chapter so i just did this. :P the bright side is that i was able to do some planning ahead for this fic. soooo yeah. fyi, this isn't going to be your average one hit, kiss, goodbye usuk fic, okay? it's going to go outside the square (we're 2d here, fellas) and dig into some character's pasts and romances. yayyy. don't worry. i've read fics where EVERYONE's backstory is mofo depressing and simply not plausible in today's world. i've taken that into account. *salutes*

annyways. so, what can you expect next chapter? o3o well, artie and alfie's re-lay-shon-shiiiipp is gonna go up a tiny notch, and someone else..haven't decided who yet, will get a possible love interest, oh and the introduction of the second pairing you'll see in this fic. this one, like my current usuk is just as 'serious' (as in not serious at all) and quite wacky as well. :P that's all. ALSO! keep your eyes peeled on the hetalia section of this site coz i'll be adding my latest usuk fic soon. it's more true to my writing style and...i actually like it. XDD

**_finally..ADVERTISEMENT! this bitch right here (me) is looking for a possible beta person. i don't have a history of sticking to betas for some reason so yeah. i just need someone to discuss ideas with, fix up grammar/typos, etc. ^^ we can totally be friends as well! :DD soo~ to become second hbic of this fic, just leave me a review (or pm) expressing your interest and we'll see where it goes! *smileyface*_**

toodles~ *HONHONHONHON*

**READ IT, REVIEW IT! EVERY REVIEW COUNTS IN MY ASSKICKING TO UPDATE THIS FIC! SO JOIN IN THE ASSKICKING! :DD (100th REVIEW (if it happens) GET SOMETHING SUPER DUPER COOL! 8DD)**


	5. Just Can't Get Enough

A/N- god. upload one (shitty) filler chap and everyone goes off their rocker. -_- well whatevs. i'll more than make up for it this chapter. i heart this chap...sooo much. and yes. my writer's block is dead. i stabbed it in the neck. ^u^ mm. watched the movie gattaca in biology...i absolutely love jude law now. T.T

i'm sad no one recognized last chapter's song. T_T it was T.T.L (Time To Love) by T-ara & Supernova, seriously the song is phenom~! i can't help but think of artie and alfie's post revolutionary war/break up phase when i listen to the song. ...but then again i pretty much relate everything to hetalia. ...sigh. but it's still one of my fav k-pop songs. ever. and i'm sure im yong soo would agree. *nods*

Disclaimer- me no own ze hetalia...me so poor..no makey ze profit.

* * *

**Chapter Five**

**Just Can't Get Enough**

'Good grief...what's with all the commotion here...!' Arthur thought as he squeezed past another group of squealing girls. Honestly one could mistake the scene in here as a Justin Bieber concert or something. What with all the giggling teenage girls and whatnot. Arthur almost fell over as two additional young females entered the shop and shoved Arthur out of the way to get to the counter. 'What the f-? Manners, much?' the Brit thought angrily as he tried to recompose himself amongst the swarms of...girl. While Arthur bent over slightly to brush the dirt off knees, someone pushed him over from behind, causing the poor Brit to topple onto the ground a flailing mess of embarrassment and anger.

"Dammit...all I wanted...was some bloody iced coffee..." Arthur muttered as he picked himself off the ground. In truth this was no concert by the ever-popular musical 'sensation', but actually an average Starbucks that was usually nowhere _near_ this busy. Especially at this time of the day when must people were either at school or work. Arthur's classes started later in the afternoon so he'd decided to take the extra time and swing by the local caff and pick up something to drink.

Arthur eyed the masses of the squeeing female population with contempt. But yeah, now that the place was all effin' clogged with...estrogen, Arthur couldn't even get to the front counter without getting elbowed in the gut; much less to order his goddamn coffee. The Brit craned his neck about to see what the cause of all this chaos was. All the girls seemed to be crowding around the counter for some reason. Arthur scowled and glanced down at his wristwatch. It was a quarter till two, damn, he had a paper that needed to be turned in by 2:30 and the drive to Arthur's university took at least twenty-five minutes.

'Oh, blast it all..' Arthur thought as he made a last ditch attempt to push himself to the front. He ducked and dodged elbows, arms, shoulders, and other body parts of the like. When the Brit finally got a breath of air that wasn't quite drowned with the overwhelming scent of cheap perfume, he gasped and sputtered, worming his wave through all these loony women had taken a lot more effort than he'd estimated. 'Holy shite, I'm alive.' Arthur reflected incredulously.

"Hey, dude! Major props on getting all the way up here! What'll you have?" a chipper voice asked. Arthur blinked. He'd almost forgotten why he had come up here in the first place. At last, that overpriced, but delicious, iced coffee would be his! Arthur looked up and smiled at the person.

"Ah, yes. Almost forgot why I was here! Right, I'll have-" the Brit's voice died in his throat when he saw who he was talking to. Messy blonde hair, gravity-defying cowlick, blue eyes, mega-watt smile, annoying overuse of American slang. '...Fuck my life.' Arthur thought to himself.

It was Alfred F. Jones, otherwise known as the suicidal fruit fairy who Arthur had locked lips with earlier this week. Tch, might as well add stalker to the list of derogatory adjectives Arthur had to describe the American with. That aside, why the in the bloody hell was Alfred suddenly working at Starbucks? Arthur had come to this place a number of times and had never seen his damn mug here before. The fuck was going on?

Apparently, Alfred had recognized him as well. "OH MAH GOD, IT'S YOU! ARTHUR!" the obnoxious yank exclaimed. "Damn sam, I can't believe my plan worked.." he later added under his breath. However Arthur still caught it. The Brit frowned. Plan? What plan? This seemingly-retarded American had a plan? Impossible.

"Plan?" he grunted. Alfred blinked before a wide grin broke across his face.

"Oh, haha. My plan. Dude, you'll never believe me, but, like, I totally knew that if I got a job working here, I'd see you eventually." he said, eyes shut in a happy smile. Arthur was silent.

"Are you a stalker?" Arthur asked blatantly. He and Alfred had only formally 'met' once before and that one run-in was not something Arthur wanted to remember. But nonetheless, it had not taken place at Starbucks, so this twat had to be stalking him or something if he knew Arthur came to this coffee shop at least once a week. Arthur just wanted to get a public confession from the yank so he'd have grounds to call the plod on his creepin' arse.

"Stalker? Wha? No, bro, no! I just saw you coming out of this Starbucks that one day." Alfred could see Arthur still wasn't getting it. He put a finger to chin before continuing on. "Uhh...'that one day' as in the day I almost got run over by a car? You remember that, don'tcha?" Arthur nodded slowly, though still quite wary of him. Alfred went on. "So I figured I had maybe like a five percent chance that I'd see you again if I got a job working here. And voila! You're here! How's that for Lady Luck, huh?" Alfred finished, laughing to himself. Arthur just grunted in response.

"Would I be correct in assuming you're also the cause of this vast sea of hormonal women?" Arthur asked. Alfred chuckled nervously.

"Ahaha. Yeah, I suppose. I didn't count on all these girls taking such a liking to me though. Totally caught me off guard." he said, throwing some of the girls a smile while they nearly erupted in squeals of glee. Arthur shook his head and sighed. He didn't see what they saw in this awkward yank.

"Hm. Don't you feel special. Well, if that's it, I'll have my iced coffee and go then." he said, pulling out a few bills to pay for the drink. Alfred took note of the order and gave it to another coworker to make. Alfred frowned a bit at Arthur's aloof attitude.

"Dude, what's the rush? I've been working here for the past three days hopin' to get a glance at your gorgeous face. You jelly now that there's a buncha chicks hungry for my bod?" Alfred observed slyly. Arthur's face turned a bright shade of pink as he struggled to make a comeback. "FYI, don't take them as competition, Iggy-kins, you're the only one I've got eyes for at the moment." By now Arthur's whole body was a bright hue of red.

"Y-you, you don't have permission to call me that, tosser! And I don't see anyone as competition, especially for you, so shove it!" Arthur barked back. Alfred nodded.

"Mm. 'Cause you've already won."

"Yes! Wait-no! No! Argh, just...just give me my iced coffee already, you arsehole." the Brit muttered, thoroughly embarrassed. Alfred smiled lovingly at the abashed young man before handing him his iced coffee. Arthur was just too cute sometimes. "...Thanks." Arthur thanked half-heartedly, accepting the drink and a taking a long sip.

"No problem." Alfred replied, watching the Brit quietly as he drank nearly half the contents of the medium-sized cup in one go. Either he was really thirsty or Arthur didn't wish to speak to him right now. Ehh...Alfred decided to go with the less hurtful option.

"Aren't you supposed to be at school or something?" Arthur asked out-of-the-blue, surprising the thoughtful American a bit. It was Monday after all and Alfred looked like any other high school boy. Loud, lanky, and a tad awkward. Alfred gave him another one of his infuriatingly bright grins.

"Nope. Teacher work day. Doesn't matter even if I did have school 'cause I had a gut feeling I'd see you today. I was gonna be here no matter what." Alfred answered. Arthur couldn't help but shake his head. Really this had to be one of the oddest Americans he'd ever encountered. Who skips school to go to work on the off-chance they'd see someone they barely even knew. For all Alfred knew, Arthur could be a serial killer or some mentally-unstable lunatic. ...He wasn't though...that was just to make a point. But still, Alfred was a weird one.

"You'd skip school to go work at a Starbucks? That's a first." Arthur observed. Alfred shrugged as he penned some more orders from the females surrounding the apple of his eye. Cough, hack, Arthur.

"Oh, here's your receipt, by the way." Alfred said, handing the Brit a small piece of paper. Arthur took it, glancing at the total to make sure the yank hadn't overcharged him as he turned around and left. That's when he noticed the red chicken scratch at the top that Arthur presumed was Alfred's doing. Upon closer inspection, Arthur found the messy scrawl were actually numbers and the way they were arranged in the three-three-four order meant it was a phone number. Alfred had given Arthur his cell phone number! ...The nerve.

Arthur shot Alfred a glare, to which the American simply smiled lazily in return.

XDXDXD

_Later...At the University of Hetalia (otherwise known as 'UH')_

"Ughh...the exam in Dickens' was awful. It was like everything I knew about American literature just flew outta my head during the damn thing." Antonio complained to his girlfriend, pulling the poor girl closer as he lamented his horrible studying habits. Lovina scowled at the Spaniard and tried to focus more on the novel she was currently trying to read.

"Dammit, get off me, bastard! I have to finish this book by tomorrow!" she replied, pushing Antonio off her shoulder.

"Uwahh! Lovina, your coldness is so adorable!" Antonio exclaimed.

"S-shut up!" Lovina shouted, an obvious blush spread across the bridge of her nose. Francis sighed at the two lovebirds as they squabbled. However they were really starting to cause a racket in here (here being the university library, Himauruya Hall) and the Frenchman had a essay to finish up. But Francis was never one to interfere with true love, and Antonio and Lovina's 'love' was one of the truest of the them all.

Antonio Hernandez Carriedo was an amicable, cheerful young man who had had almost as many adventures in love as Francis himself. Lovina Vargas was the university's spitfire tomboy. The girl was loud, brash, and spoke her mind whether people wanted to hear her opinion or not. This trait had earned Lovina many an adversary (mostly girls), but it had intrigued Antonio. Being the man he was, Antonio approached Lovina and asked her out on a date. His response was a tomato to the face (Lovina had been snacking on a tomato earlier) and a flustered rejection from Lovina.

This did nothing to deter the passionate Spaniard, rather it only made Antonio continue to pursue her more. Again and again, he was met with rejection, tomatoes, bodily harm, etc. But then, it seemed as though a miracle had occured at the University of Hetalia when Lovina sighed and accepted Antonio's dinner invitation. When asked about it, Lovina would reply that she was tired of the bastard's constant hounding and figured that one date would be enough to get him to leave her alone. It wasn't, as it seemed that after that date, there were more dates...and more dates. Nothing official was ever made about the couple but it was a well known fact that the two were 'a package deal'. So from then on, boys left Lovina alone unless they wanted to feel the sting of her tomatoes (no innuendo intended) and or fists and girls left Antonio alone unless Antonio felt strong enough to brave Lovina's wrath.

"'Sup, losers." came a certain self-proclaimed 'fucking made of awesome' Prussian's greeting. Gilbert slid into the seat next to Francis and popped open his backpack, pulling out a notebook and baggie of Animal Crackers.

"Asshole/Gilbert." was Lovina and Francis' respective replies in return.

"What's up with tomato-for-brains?" Gilbert asked, nibbling on the leg of a giraffe. Antonio had his head on the table, sulking. "Did Lovina deny him some lovin'?" he teased. The Italian girl turned red as she bent forward and smacked Gilbert on the head with the spine of her hardcover book. Ouch.

"Dumbass." she said, sitting back down and flipping the pages of War & Peace to find her place.

"Ow! I was just kidding! Jeez." Gilbert muttered, rubbing his new bruise gently. "Hey...someone's missing. Eh, someone decidedly British, bitchy, has gi-fuckin'-normous eyebrows, and cooks super awesome food..." he observed. Francis shook his head.

"Gilbert, you're the only one here who thinks Arthur's cooking is _above_ despicable. And he's in the cafeteria getting something to eat, said someone made him chug his iced coffee this morning and it messed with his appetite." Francis replied, hitting the 'enter' key of his laptop, sending his essay off to his economics professor. Gilbert grunted then grinned as he noticed something on the wooden table.

"Dude...he left his phone here. Not smart. Someone could look through his messages and stuff." Gilbert said, taking Arthur's Blackberry Storm in hand and toying with its features. Antonio finally lifted his head from the table and gave his albino friend a tired smile.

"Someone like you?" he asked. Gilbert only smirked in response. Lovina shook her head at Gilbert's lack of respect for one's property, reaching out and taking a handful of his Animal Crackers. Antonio sighed as his girlfriend's humorous hypocrisy, finding it, as he did everything else about her, very adorable. Gilbert's jaw dropped slightly when he noticed a scribbled-on receipt stuck to the back of the phone. There was someone's number on the receipt. Two questions automatically popped into Gilbert's mind. First, whose number was it and second, who in their right mind would give their number to a big ol' stick-in-the-mud such as Arthur?

"Holy shit, Artie gots him some digits." Everyone moved towards Gilbert to get a look at the receipt, trying to see if the number belonged to someone they knew. No such luck.

Francis collapsed back onto his chair in defeat. "In such a world where even Arthur _Kirkland_ can pique someone's interests...I ask you, God, where is my mystery phone number from the heavens?" he questioned to the musty air dramatically. Lovina eyed the Frenchman strangely. Out of all Antonio's 'friends', this guy freaked her out the most. Antonio must have sensed his girlfriend's nervousness since he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and her rubbed arm affectionately. Lovina's face turned as red as one of her prized tomatoes.

"Francis, your phone is _filled_ with mystery phone numbers. I'm just not sure they're from the heavens." Antonio jabbed jokingly. Francis gasped and feigned hurt. Gilbert smacked the back of the Frenchman's head and told him to shut up.

Lovina tilted her head to get a better look at what Gilbert was doing. It looked like...like he was adding the mystery number to Arthur's contacts. Now he was doing something else...Lovina glowered at the Prussian. "What the hell are you doing, dumbass?" she asked bluntly. Gilbert's eyes glanced at her before returning to the Blackberry in his hands.

"Heh heh...I'm totally...helping...Arthur's sex life out...right now. And there. Send. Haha, damn, this is gonna be hilarious." Gilbert chuckled, putting the phone back where he found it. Antonio, Francis, and Lovina shook their heads at the man as he sat back down, smirking to himself and munching on his Animal Crackers in contentment.

XDXDXD

With Alfred...At Starbucks

Hidden in the pocket of his favorite brown bomber jacket, Alfred's phone began to vibrate.

_Text Message From- ***-***-****_

_Hey, it's Arthur, Arthur Kirkland. Everywhere I go, I can't stop thinking of you. I see you everywhere I look. The sky, the clouds, the piss in my toilet. _

_I have to see you again. Meet me at the UH campus Wednesday at 5 PM. Sharp. Don't be late._

_See you there, lover. ;)))_

* * *

A/N- gilbert is the king of the troll kingdom. no objections. spamano wasn't planned but came early b/c this chapter was arthur-centric. :P yes, romano's a girl. got a problem w/that? jk. i just wanted some 'straight' couples here and there. just for kicks. plus he's already so tsundere, he might as well just be a girl. UH...the university of hetalia. oh, shieeeet. that's so my dream college. =A= arthur's number's a buncha asterisks coz i was too busy to think of a number. plus i didn't wanna get in trouble in case it was an actual number.

note. i'm thinking of deleting the last chapter. it kinda...doesn't sit well w/me. plus i don't like taking up unnecessary chapter space in my fics. so i you see a disappearance of chapters. yeah. you'll know what happened. PS- i've got a person to be my beta. woooot. you know who you are. xDD but if anyone else wants to help, feel free to shoot me a message or leave something in your review. also, idk when the next chapter will be put up. spring break's over and i have stuff to do now. :PP i'll work on my shit whenever i can. promise. owo

last thing i just wanted to say. **GLOWER**. verb- to have an angry or sullen look on one's face. synonym- scowl. it DOES NOT mean motherfuckin' smiling or happy. i've seen this annoyingly common mistake everywhere. vocab don't mean shit if you don't even know the meaning of the frikkin' word. that's all.

peace, lovies~

_term translation_

_shite- _shit. (same pronunciation. north british)

_caff- _cafe, coffeehouse. (british)

_plod-_ police (common british slang)

_arse- _ass (british)

_u jelly?- _you jealous? (internet/trollspeak)

**REVIEW FOR THE AWESOME ANIMAL CRACKERS! OR FOR THE STORY, IF YOU LIKE! NEXT UPDATE IS INDEFINITE! *sorry***


	6. Long Time No See?

**Author's Note****  
**

**Heyyyy errybody~ how've you all been? TT u TT;;**

Seeing as it has been well...a year (or so..) since I've updated and I've seemingly just _dropped _off the face of the Earth, I feel as though I should offer some sort of...reason as to why this is. Lol.

-schoolwork: I took up a SHITTON of extracirrics and extra classes in order to get (even more) ahead than I already am (lol..maybe I just like the torture) and all that just swamped me so completely. _ ;; In the end though, schoolwork always take precedence over any of the lolderp stuff I do. ;n; (that GPA is hard to maintain, y'know)

-serious lack of interest in anime: Like not even kidding, I used to watch anime and read manga every second I could but this year, I dunno, seemed like...I just stopped. o.o Really don't know why. The last few things I really watched were Deadman Wonderland, Madoka, and Durarara. After that I just never got the urge to start a new anime or read new manga. /failed as an otaku/ (feel free to recommend me some animes though cause I'll start working back into that pretty soon lol)

-dollars chat: Well after falling in utter love with Durarara (and spending most a week reading the translated novels online) I became minorly (understatement) obsessed with dollars chats. Idk man. It was so addicting and I made a bunch of new friends. ; w ; But they took up a bunch of my time too (time that could've...should've been spent writing orz). Especially with the addition of skype after the chat crashed. LOL

deleted all my shit: Not even joking, dudes. Before my hiatus started I had soooo many drafts and chapters in the doc manager and I guess I was gone so long that they all just went kaput. :/ After that happened, I kind of lost hope and left the site for a really long time. Didn't have any inspiration to start over. TT n TT /is a weenie/

_**Annnnyyyyywayyyyys.**_

I just want you guys to know that I've ALWAYS read your guys' reviews. When one of them pops up on my email, I click and read it with joy cause someone out there is finding entertainment from my (crap) work. Brings a smile to my face. It really does. Q w Q

I love ALL of my readers and reviewers. You're all flippin' fantastic. ; o ; /gives everyone cookies/ 333

**_So about my_ stories...**

Okay. Listen up. They are not, I repeat, **not discontinued**. The end of my sophomore year in HS is drawing close and I don't have to take any finals (cept Art and Gym, but those are painfully easily) due to exemptions. (lolol, lucky me, am I right?) So once I seriously have free time again, I will start writing again and get cracking on updating these old, but beloved, fics.

Lol...sorry if any of you thought this was an actual update. I just got a really, really touching review from an anon named Deikus that made my conscience punch me in the face. XDD

*reply to Deikus: Yes, that shit _does_ just appear in my brain. My sense of humor knows no bounds. Lol. Yes, I hate corny plots too. I go the extra mile to think of intricate plots to feed into my stories in the hopes that maybe they'll stand out. Good to know I have succeeded in doing just that. ;w; France is just lol to write. I pay meticulous attention to how I portray characters. I hate out of character-ness so much. Tu T;; And Jesus has answered your prayer, I will be writing more for this fic. :D

_**That's about it. Ololololol.**_

We'll be in touch my lovely readers. For now I must get back to studying for my last American History test (over Watergate and Reagan. FUUUUUUUUU) and chilling out for the rest of my birthday. Lol, did I mention today was my birthday? Didn't get a cake though. Just saw the Avengers and fangirled the ever loving crap out of Captain America. (a part of me wants to write Avengers fanfiction now...)

**When I actually finish up the next chapter for this fic, this note will probably be replaced with that so don't fret. :'DD**

oh hey. if any of you guys actually do wanna talk to me about whatever. (fanfics, anime, life, cats, etc) Feel free to PM me or add me on skype. i'm on there like...every day and you can TOTALLY yell at me to update (plus do actually, i need that sort of push XD) the name is and don't ask about the second part of that name, it is a long ass story. xDDD lol i promise you guys that i'm actually a cool person to talk to, even if i do occasionally disappear from the mortal plane now and then.

Welp. Toodles for now~


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